I like my non-fictional writing. Better yet, I find it easy and enjoyable. But I have not fully challenged myself to date. Hence, me flirting with fictional writing. While sitting around last night, I wanted to shape a scene in which my fictional character had to deal with tension. As you will read, I have yet to really assign names, though Helen will be the female. This scene is one that takes place later in the story. Here is what is taking place in his mind:
Helen is forcing his state of thought while he grapples with his anger towards her. He sees her God and whiteness shine as though he is in the dark needing her light. His bitterness is unclear, as he watches her move uncomfortably throughout the room; she thinks he is a simpleton, being black that is. The light of her skin forces him to ponder his race and place as a dark stranger behind her closed door. His mind frequents the room in thought while his eyes move from her window frame to the red carpet stain. His body feels a sense of submergence in his state of melancholy. Dark thoughts unfold to resist her light…. What is this light? His mind moves about the room while her blue eyes betray his body. Is it her indictment of his race? His eyes left her eyes as they moved back toward the red stain. He looked up at her wall to find a cross stained of mahogany with beveled edges; it channeled him into a hall of crosses once observed in a church. While looking at the cross, he could still hear her voice as he elapsed into a deeper sense of melancholy. Curious about the nail that held the cross to the wall, he thought about God as her voice echoed from afar. She is ten feet aside but felt ten miles away. He listened to her while eyeing the paralyzed cross on her wall. His anger morphed as she spoke of nothing…. Helen’s voice represents a pain that he pondered, wondering if he is being crucified by anger as emotions enslave him the way her white God once enslaved his kind.